


While There's Time

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Assassins' Guild, Gen, Novella
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assassinstuck AU. Dirk Strider is recruited as part of the Assassin's Guild in the region of S'Burb. He doesn't know what to expect, with a winged Warrior as his superior, a tipsy thief for a best friend and a tyrannical empress who seems to have more up her sleeve than just heavy taxes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1 Act 1

For something steeped so deeply in enigma, the Assassin's Guild - Dirk reflected - was really not as solemn as he assumed it would be. More than anything else, it seemed to be a rag-tag group of deadly, but extremely different individuals. Still, it wasn't anything to get sore over. The facts remained the same: he, Dirk Strider, was a Recruit. Grueling years of swordplay, hand-to-hand, weapon-crafting and general exhaustion had led to this pivotal moment. Granted, he didn't really see his hard work pan out quite like  _this_ , but it was something. He had to stay professional.

And like hell was he going to allow himself to get distracted by a pair of incredibly well engineered wings. But there they were, gleaming copper and bronze; a miracle if they actually worked, but somehow he doubted they were just for show.

_Dammit, don't get distracted!_

His sponsor was intimidating enough without them: although Dirk himself was by no means a short man, Rufioh - Rank Warrior - towered over him at, what he could only estimate, 6'4, and was surprisingly friendly (Dirk had an inkling that these "surprising" revelations would not be unfamiliar to him).

"So, uh, yeah...that's what a warrior like me does here." Rufioh had a drawling lilt to his voice; it made sense how he had climbed so far up the assassin hierarchy at such a young age. He was unassuming, or, well, as unassuming as one could be with a massive sword strapped to ones back. The mechanical wings probably didn't help much either, if he wore them outside of the Guild. But that wasn't really a question fit for the moment. There were other far more important things to keep track of than an eccentric man's fashion choices. 

"I couldn't help but notice that it isn't very crowded here-" 

"Right, right. Well, i'm supposed to tell you all about that anyway, but you know, I think you should get to know the people and the place. Sorry," he added, though his tone remained light.

"Suits me," Dirk replied with a curt nod, pausing. "So is there someone I'm supposed to report to, who can tell me what a "Recruit" is or what the hell I'm supposed to be doing now that you've roped me in to your little club. You know, the basics that everyone should have from the start, so they don't end up failing miserably? It's the little things that matter."

"Whoa," he breathed. There was a look in his eye that would be akin to amusement, if it wasn't entirely polite. Rufioh was strange like that - he was so casual, it was almost polite. "You're, like, really eager, if you don't mind me sayin' - but I'm your Sponsor so walk with me, I'll let you know." He ambled away, leaving Dirk no real choice but to follow at few steps behind him, thanks to those ridiculous wings. Taking up most of the corridor's space, they forced anyone unlucky enough to be walking nearby at the time to flatten themselves against the walls - they were kind of sharp and jagged - something you really didn't want near skin.

Rufioh apologized to no one in particular (and thus, to everyone in general) at regular intervals, but Dirk was forced to consider the sincerity of these casual, almost well-worn apologies. It looked like he was used to giving them, but also used to being flat out ignored for them. So the wing thing was normal then. Great. He'd always wanted a giant bird companion anyway.

_Oh, wait._

Luckily, they soon reached the common chambers. There were a lot more people here; most looked busy, but some were lazing around. Rufioh led him to a large tapestry near the back of the cozy, decorated room, looking pointedly at it and then back at him. Moving in for a closer look, Dirk could see detailed illustrations of the Assassins, their Creed, history and ranks. It seemed old and almost venerable; it had probably taken years to make.

"A manual," he noted in deadpan, enjoying the ever-so-slight eyebrow twitch this earned him. The previous joviality, the previous drawl of Rufioh was gone - instead, here was the Warrior, a strong, genuinely imposing figure. His tone was sombre, as he explained, "A  _manual_ , yes. Our legacy. Everything we stand for - that we have ever stood for - is on this tapestry. An assassin cannot hope to represent his creed if he does not respect each and every inch of this  _manual_. So, initiate - are you here for the creed? If you don't mind me asking."

A soft smile played at the corner of the Warrior's lips, a slight twinkle in his eye that explained his reversion to his usual drawl. "I kind of need to know what that is first, don't I?" Dirk replied keeping his demeanor unphased. "Is it somewhere in the manu- sorry, the tapestry-come-legacy, then?" His eyes were already scanning the wall...crap, there was a lot up there. Not just the usual amount of stuff a wall hanging this size would have, he noticed, there was so much more written so small it was hard to discern it from squiggles. "History of Alpha Guild," "Affiliations" - there was a lot scratched out here and patched over - "Grand Masters," a map of the Guild, a field map to other Guilds...

Yeah. A lot.

"I'm just surprised you don't already know- but..." he trailed off. "The Grand Masters know best." As Dirk looked at him expectantly, Rufioh sighed and then sat down. It was a wonder he didn't hear the chair sigh under his sheer bulk. "Our creed is simple, but multi-faceted," he said, the somberness back in his voice. Here, again, was the Assassin. "You live them. You breathe them. You know them inside out. Number one-" he held up a long finger, the eye-contact intense. "Know your strengths well; know the enemy's strengths better. Self-explanatory, I think, sorry if I'm speaking over you here, but I'm pretty sure you would agree. Suffer no delusions - harsh word, I know - that you will definitely be stronger than the enemy. Like, y'know, I know I can fly and all, but the enemy might have flaming catapults and if one of them hits me..."

He shook his head. "Well. I'm fucked."

Dirk nodded, crossing his arms. That made sense. "Number two, and this is my favorite one: Loyalty begets freedom; treachery begets oppression. We are a brotherhood. Our success is based on our strength as a  _unit_." Dirk shifted his weight slightly, interested. "If one of us slips up, we're all doomed. We fight for liberation, but how can we liberate people if we can't be a united front? No. We have to work together, and there's no argument about that. Divided, we fall, we leave cracks for the enemy to seep in through - and by leaving cracks, we crumble until a landfall hits the people we have to protect." 

Suddenly, Rufioh grinned, "And we can't have that."

Without waiting for Dirk to comment, he went on. "Number three: Sacrifice above all." He fingered his sword, looking towards the tapestry. "We all have to give up certain things to be a part of this guild - I assume you did too - and it won't be easy. As Assassins, we know more than anyone what hardship and sacrifice is, but we don't hesitate. We're willing to give up our lives for this - and in the cases of our superiors, they have."

Before Dirk had time to ponder that cryptic statement, Rufioh pressed on, "But this - this is what we live for, above all else. Finally, number four, which, well, it's really number one. Let no hierarchy dictate your fate."

"That one I already knew. It's the one thing people can agree this Order stands for." And it was really the reason Dirk had decided to go along with this recruitment. He was sick of living in the world as an underdog, nothing expected of him because his older brother had already been too successful, if there was even such a thing. The guy wasn't even really his brother, just a guardian but no one other than Dirk seemed to remember this. But he'd been content-ish - becoming an apprentice mechanic wasn't the worst thing in the world for a dude - but then there'd been that little hiccup with the Midnight Assassin and Roxy and the decapitation...that would put a stopper on anyone's career path. Well. Unless they were also in the business of killing - which was the only way Roxy had enticed him into joining up. He wondered idly where she was...was she even in the building? A curt cough brought him back to the present, with Rufioh giving him yet another impatient look. Oh, he'd missed all of that.

"Like I said before, Sacrifice above all. That means discipline, so you might want to listen to your superiors before you go waving that sword at the enemy." And then he added with a big, goofy grin, "If you don't mind me sayin'." Dirk shook his head, mildly abashed. Rufioh turned, and took a book from the shelf, putting it down in front of Dirk. It was small, but definitely well-thumbed through. "This one's pretty important too, it's a more concise history of our guild. Not as abstract as the manual." He grinned, "Good bedtime reading."

And who didn't love homework.


	2. Act 1 Act 2

"And that is pretty much every major area in the Guild," Rufioh rounded off as they came to a halt much later on, back in the common chambers. He had ditched the wings a while back after getting some severe looking glares from what could only be his superiors. Without them he looked far more like someone you would want to listen to. Seriously, those things just gave the wrong impression. "The only thing left now is your actual training. Alpha Guild Recruits and Initiates learn by going on missions with people of higher ranks, like Warriors or Veterans. So for the next while you'll be following orders from me." 

"From  _you_?" Dirk couldn't help it. The exclamation came out of his mouth without pre-meditation. Rufioh just grinned toothily at him and nodded. Taking it as a sign that it was no longer something to be discussed, Dirk shrugged and sat at one of the desks. Rufioh, for all his muscles and weaponry, didn't seem like much of a leader to him. Suddenly, he heard a loud clatter. "Ah, fiddlesticks- no, no, I'm sorry! I didn't mean that! I meant-" 

The rest of this stranger's words went muffled under another clatter, this time borne of picking up the mechanical odds and ends he had dropped. Dirk looked at him, an eyebrow ever-so-slightly raised. If he felt dwarfed by Rufioh, this guy- this guy was at least another head taller than the Warrior. His clothes, though reinforced by well-beaten armored pieces, were slightly tattered and stained. Half his face was hidden by massive, wrought-iron goggles. 

Dirk took a moment to check what this guy's insignia - a symbol on an Assassin's tunic which indicated rank - was. The usual elaborate A, but with a hood in the middle. That meant he was Disciple rank, Dirk was fairly certain. Every level had a different symbol representing their skillset, but a fully realised Assassin merely had the A. Rufioh's had twin blades in his; Warrior class. Dirks, meanwhile, as one of the lowest ranking members of the organization, had two overlapping eagle feathers. Eagles were supposed to be symbolic to the Guild or some shit. He wasn't sure how, but eagles were pretty cool birds, so he wasn't going to put up a fuss.

As the Disciple continued to talk on about how embarrassing it was to drop his stuff, Dirk figured he might as well pick up his stuff for him. As he stooped to help, he saw a small symbol pinned just beneath the Disciple insignia: a hammer and chisel crossed at the hilt. Paying closer attention to the items in his hands, he realized he was lifting large metal sheets, iron bolts and iron nails. He was probably the guild artisan. 

"Oh, thank you," said the man, giving him a small smile. It was slightly disconcerting, given that he couldn't see the Disciple's eyes. "I had much too large a burden and, naturally, I found myself losing my grip! Sloppy, sloppy, pardon me, sir, I must have caused you a great deal of inconvenience by demanding your help." Before Dirk could begin to say that he helped him of his own volition, he continued on, "Certainly, I will take care to be less flipping clumsy- oh, goodness, I'm sorry. My mouth is too foul for this respected establishment!"

All Dirk could do as the Disciple went on and on was look weakly at the other people in the room. They very helpfully looked the other way, covering smiles and chortles with books, and in some cases, even dagger hilts. As he begin to lose hope in saying anything ever again, he heard a mildly weary voice say, "You dropped everything again, didn't you Horuss? I keep telling you to get a bag..." Rufioh was immediately cut off, as Horuss continued on. Dirk didn't think he had even heard what was being said to him. He was surprised, nonetheless, when Rufioh just smiled and produced a bag from one of the shelves, helping the two other men deposit everything into it. 

Once most of the gear had been replaced in the bag, Horuss looked at Rufioh, suddenly serious, "I do have to inform you, though, about some developments in a matter of utmost importance and confidentiality." Dirk noticed the slight wrinkle between Rufioh's brows as he began to say, "Shouldn't we-" but, alas, to everyone's surprise, he was cut off.

"It seems that Her Imperial Condescension has allied herself with our sworn enemies, the Association, in order to better obtain the-"

At that, Rufioh quickly snapped to attention and took hold of Horrus' shoulders, driving him to the next room and loudly talking over Horuss' ongoing nattering. Try as he might, Dirk could not discern Horuss' speech - Rufioh's defensive maneuvors certainly were effective.

Well, that was interesting, Dirk mused, his eyebrow even higher than before. Her Imperial Condescension...well everyone had heard of  _that_ one. And if she had joined up with The Association, another name everyone knew, then whatever she was after was definitely valuable. But with more important matters to attend to, Dirk was now alone in a large room with several Assassins-in-training without a clue as to what he was supposed to do next. Like, was there a protocol? Should he wait for Rufioh?

_Ah, screw it,_  he thought as he ceremoniously flopped onto a comfortable looking couch. 

If any of the other assassins heard Horuss' ramblings, they made no indication of it.  _Discipline, I suppose,_  Dirk thought wryly. Suddenly, he was jostled to attention by a loud squeal. 

"I knew I'd find you here!" came a familiar excited shriek, as two arms wrapped themselves around his neck in what was supposedly a hug. Or a chokehold, if you didn't know Roxy. "Hey," he greeted in return as she took the seat beside him, cuddling up close. That was just the way RoLal was: constant contact was important to her. 

"I put on my sleuthing hat, which is not as much a hat as it is a drink - and not so much a drink as it is  _two martinis_  - and I pondered really hard. If I was mister tall, dark and studly - not you, Dirky, though if I might say - and will -  _yum_  - where, oh, where would I leave the newest Recruit? And I was right, I was so right!" she laughed delightedly, a bit too much for Dirk's comfort, but that was just another, if not as great, constant with Roxy.

"I take it you mean Rufioh - " was as far as he got before his blonde friend was off again. "Ohh, man what a dreamboat. A beefcake. A dream beef boat. A long, hard, dream beef boat  _loaf_..if you know what I mean" she added, with an exaggerated wink.

He snorted, and shook his head wearily, "I hear you loud and clear. Unfortunately."

Roxy threw her head back and laughed again, then kissed Dirk's cheek with a loud smooch, "Oh, Dirky, look at you! A Recruit!" she said, prodding the insignia on his chest. Her own was that of an Initiate's slim dagger - the hidden blade that every Assassin in training was bound to master - the rank one level up from his. Roxy was taken in by the Guild a year ago, adopted after a high-ranking Assassin caught her  _almost_  having got away with his gold. Impressed, he immediately recommended her as a recruit. And things seemed to be going well for her, if her promotion was any indication.

"And might I just say, you and that uniform? A recipe for my pants. Or rather, a recipe to get into my pants." The same exaggerated wink, one that garnered a snort from even the usually stoic Dirk. "If you say so, Rox'."

"Anyway, anyway," she said, waving her hand as if to push the other topic away, "I take it that Roofie-Stud-Muffin is gonna be training you? 'Cause if that's true it means we get to go on missions together!"

"He trains you?" That made sense. He trained Initiates and Recruits alike. "Yep!" she chirped, grinning. "I get plenty of eyecandy, if that's what you're wondering, especially during the hotter months-"

"That's way too much information," he said, forcing himself not to shudder slightly. Roxy's colorfully presented image of the admittedly large Warrior made him uncomfortable, especially if Rufioh was to be his superior. "I think you mean never enough information!" she countered.

"Anyway, see those two broads over there? The skinny Southern F.E.T girl and the short, muscle-y Indoni? They're also being trained right now, so you'll be with the three of us-" She broke of, as if an epiphany had struck her. "Oooh you are totally the honorary fourth girl! You can ogle the men with us too, unless you want to ogle me that is. But trust me," she held up her hands before he could interrupt her, drawing out the word "trust" with way too many syllables, "You'll be with it in no time."

His face looked even more weary than before. "If it's all the same, I'm, um, fine being the...outsider. You girls go ahead and ogle, I'll just...sharpen a knife." That earned him another wink, and he groaned, looking around. The Southerner was busy checking some weird blades that Dirk had never seen before; the Indoni girl, however, had caught sight of Roxy's pointing, and was making her way over to them. "That's Latula," Roxy whispered loudly near Dirk's face as she came over. "She's an Initiate, like me."

"Whoa, whoa, so who's this rad new guy?" Latula grinned, bright red goggles catching the sun. Dirk squinted slightly.

"Hey. I'm Dirk."

"He's a recruit!" Roxy grinned, wrapping her arms around Dirk again, "D-Strider!"

"Dirk Strider," he gently corrected, though his heart wasn't in it. They had been calling each other D-Strider and RoLal for years now. His desire to be as professional as possible wasn't so deep as to deny Roxy the use of his nickname wholeheartedly.

"Sweet to meetcha, Dirk Strider." She grinned, showing all her teeth. He could already tell her personality was borderline obnoxious, but she seemed harmless. Well, as harmless as an Assassin in training could be. "Guess this means Damara's off Newbie status then." Latula turned around towards the Southerner, "'Ey Damara!" she yelled loudly, "Got us some fresh meat!" Dirk fought back the deep sigh he wanted to let out as every pair of eyes in the room went from the loud Initiate to him. Great. The first impression he always wanted. Damara, however, just looked at him with cold eyes, nodded, and then stabbed her desk with one of the weird blades. Dirk blinked. Roxy sighed dramatically. And Latula just grinned.

"She says Hi."


	3. Intermission 1

Thunk.

Thunk.

_THUNK._

Yes! Last trident and finally a perfect shot. Meenah rolled her head back on her shoulders listening to the small clicks it made. Some time alone to let off steam, yeah, that's what she'd needed. The grin on her face quickly faded as she remembered why she'd come here in the first place; so she wouldn't have to think. But now she had to - and good god did making decisions  _suck._

Like, yeah, okay, she was the Crown Princess of an ever-expanding, ruthless Empire so she was gonna have to get used to the idea of actually having ideas eventually. But this? "This shella blows," she muttered to herself, pulling her favoured trident out of the bullseye she'd been practicing on. As she sat down on a nearby over the top ornate marble bench - like everything in this glubbin palace - she began to slowly polish it, mulling things over.

She had suspected for a while that Her Imperial Condescension was completely, one hundred percent pyschotically insane. The last two hours had just made it all the more obvious. And that was a lot, coming from Meenah. She had been casually shirking her responsibilities - her goodie two shoes of a sister would just pick up the slack anyways - when she'd stumbled across something she de-fin-itely wasn't supposed to hear. Condy was joining up with the Association; the Templar faction of S'Burb, a city near the heart of the Alternian Empire.

Meenah frowned, pausing in her work. But that wasn't the weird bit. Teaming up with those suckas? An obvious enough move, especially with those Assassins that kept cropping up everywhere, gettin' in the way and trying to stop any seedier scams people had goin' on. Nah, that she could get behind. But Meenah had over heard Her Condyship talking to the leader of the Templars, Lord something or other; he'd given her a Juju.

Looking the trident over, she began to wipe at it again: she had to look busy right now. Meenah didn't know much about Jujus, but she knew enough to know that they were rare, that each one did something different, and they were very,  _very_ powerful. More than any one person should have, especially someone like Her Imperial Condescension. So she'd stolen it.

Well, tried anyway. The stupid thing was embedded in the Empress's diadem, her dumb-shiny-crown-thing. So now here she was, stuck pretending like she knew nothing; easy enough as most people but her sister gave her a wide berth. Last time she'd seen Fef though was, uh, yesterday? Maybe. Who knew where the cute little flip was anyway, probably off being all noble and royal like. Which suited Meenah fine most days, but right now she could do with someones opinion.

Glub, she hated decisions.

But she kind of knew what had to be done, even if she wasn't really okay with admitting that yet. She'd have to leave, without telling anyone and especially without Condy noticing anything. There was one other person Meenah knew she could talk to about this, someone who just  _loved_ going on and on and making decisions for people. She'd tell her all she knew and let Miss Won't Shut Up come up with what  _she_  should do. Yeah, that was probably the best thing to do. Way better than doing the thinking herself. The crown princess stood up, pushing her long trails of hair back away from her face and sauntered as casually as she could muster towards the main entrance of the Palace. She almost felt bad for leaving her sister behind, but, she assured herself, if there was even a chance of something going wrong, she would have Feferi taken away from there quickly. And there was a pretty high chance of something going wrong; Meenah had also over heard one other piece of information.

She knew where the Templar Headquarters were and that would undoubtedly lead to an open rebellion at the very,  _very_  least.


	4. Act 1 Act 3

"Recruits, time for your break," Rufioh called out to the small crowd that was gathered in a gymnasium styled building, only with more knives and other paraphernalia of the weapon kind, most of them blunt, as this was just training. Dirk flicked his wrist a few times, still getting the hang of the hidden blade that all Assassins had to know. It was a small, stiletto type blade, six inches long. It rested in a sheath wrapped around his arm that would release and retract with a specific wrist movement. It looked easier than it was; a lot of the time his just sat there, mocking him, glinting in the amber beams of the lights above.

He had been handed the blade the same day Rufioh had originally given him the tour of the Guild. That was two freaking weeks ago and he still couldn't get it to work. Least there was nothing wrong with his swordsman abilities, thank some deity in the sky, whichever one was listening. That had been his one saving grace during combat practice; while all the other recruits relied heavily on their hidden blades to start off with, Dirk was already very adept with a sword. He'd only lost a few matches, most of them to Damara. Speaking of, Dirk sat down beside her, ignoring the by now usual death glare she sent his way. That was the problem. They were supposed to be starting actual missions soon and all of the team would need to be able to communicate with each other for it to work properly. And Damara wasn't making things easy for anyone: the other four Recruits had given up trying to speak to her. It didn't help that she insisted on speaking in Southern FET when he knew damn well she knew Common. But before he could get into today's planned small talk annoyances, the Winged Warrior of Nagging motioned him over.

"Next time, bro," he said in goodbye to Damara, like they were tight buds. Heh, the twitch of her face made it all worthwhile.

"Yeah?" he asked, taking in the grim expression on Rufioh's face. "This way." Rufioh turned, striding away at a pace most people would jog at. Well, that was curt. Dirk followed a ways behind, noting to himself that the corridor they were going down wasn't one he had seen on his tour, or any time on his own. It was old and draughty, in need of repair, in stark contrast to the rest of the Guild Dirk had seen so far. He got the sense that this wasn't a fun day out, but actually serious for once; given Rufioh's overall demeanor. So he kept quiet until they reached a door that a stationed guard opened for them.

Inside, the room was bare except for a large typewriter on a solid wood desk and a familiar bounce of blonde hair - Roxy. She looked up as they entered, smiling weakly and giving a small shrug. She didn't know why they were here either. They stood there in silence for a few moments until the door opened again, this time Horuss coming through. "Ah, I'm so sorry I'm late," he stammered in apology, waving a large tool bag around. "Had to find the right screwdriver and none of the ones I had on me were the right ones for the Typing Session even though I was looking everywhere that I could think of, even in that one trunk-" Rufioh held up his hand and Horuss must have felt the atmosphere in the room, or maybe it was the look the Warrior was giving him, but he shut up. "Just turn it on," he commanded, not asked, Dirk noticed.

Horuss bent over the machine, blocking out Dirk's line of view; but a few bangs and clangs later he stepped away from it saying the machine would work now. "This is a Typer," Rufioh said to Dirk and Roxy, the later of which nodded her head knowingly. Dirk rolled his eyes behind his shades, RoLal didn't have a clue what this thing was; but then neither did he. "It's going to act as a bridge between us and the Grand Master of the Alpha Guild. Horuss types what we want to say and the Grand Master's response appears on this piece of paper."

He lifted up a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it, "Earlier this morning, we were contacted by the Grand Master of the Alpha Guild." He handed it to Dirk, instructing, "Read it, give it to Roxy, and then we'll burn the correspondence. Things are...a bit dire, and we cannot afford any loose ends."

Dirk frowned slightly then turned his eyes to the paper, reading quietly.

_My Assassins-_

_It has come to my attention that our esteemed enemies truly have allied themselves with HIC. This means that the carefully orchestrated position of the Guild - both ours and all Guilds across Alternia - may be in jeopardy. We must stop this. Hence, I advise you, Summoner, to gather your best Initiates and Recruits, so we may better grasp an understanding of the truth._

_In discipline and sacrifice,_

_\- Grand Master._

Dirk silently handed the paper over to Roxy, looking at Rufioh with a frown, "So...you picked me and Roxy."

Rufioh nodded, sitting down at the desk. "You two, believe it or not, have the best discipline. And I've seen you two work together - you're cohesive. That's extremely important. But since you are of a lower ranking, I have to-"

"Rufioh-"

"Horuss, not now-"

"We have another message."

Rufioh bounded up from the desk, snatching the paper from the Typer. He scanned it thoroughly his eyes flicking feverishly. When he turned back to Dirk and Roxy, his mouth was curled in a grim smile.

"Change of plans," he said, extending the paper to them. Neither of them took it - they could see the single line clearly. 

_The Crown Princess has fled. Revise mission accordingly. Will be sending coordinates in person._

_\- Grand Master._  

Dirk raised an eyebrow, "No  _my assassins_ , no  _in discipline and whatever_. This is serious." Rufioh nodded, taking the earlier correspondence from Roxy. He lit the nearby brazier and held the letters over it, watching as the corners first singed and then caught fire. He breathed something that Dirk could swear sounded a lot like a weary, "Bangarang."


	5. Things of note

 

**AUTHORS' NOTE**

  
This is quite obviously heavily influenced by the Assassin's Creed series, of which both Light and Heart are  _huge_  fans. This isn't identical to the Assassins and Templars of Ubisoft fame, and we have taken many, many liberties to fit it in with Homestuck...AU...goodness. Yes. Heart is eloquent. The setting is an indistinct steampunk era, with much of the geography harkening back to pre-WWI border establishment. If you have any questions about anything, feel free to ask, and we will answer to the best of our ability. We will update this page as and when it's needed.

Now, if you have never picked up any of these games, or know nothing about them; not to worry, we explain most concepts in a basic form or another in the story itself. But if you ever feel like you need to go back and check something

* * *

**The Assassins vs The Templars**  can be broken down in to a basic theme of Ordered Chaos vs Order, where one side wants to have the Intellectual Freedom to decide what their own lives will be, the other thinks that the only way this will ever happen is through an iron ruling . Naturally, there is a lot of moral greyness on both sides, but this fic makes it easier to pick a side, because, well, troll cuties verses (admittedly awesome) tyrannic fish alien empress, silhouettes and snooker gangs and sundry.  

  
**Jujus and Pieces of Eden:** A common aspect of both Assassin ' s Creed and Homestuck is a wonderous object that can increase your abilities ten fold; you can have god like abilities. In Homestuck these are of course known as Jujus and, just like in Assassins Creed, there are only one of each kind ever in existence. In Assassins Creed however, they are known as Pieces of Eden. They are a pivitol point to the plot of all the games and always encapsulate the essence of a Higher Being, someone to guide the heroes of the story whether they like it or not. A person who owns and willfully uses a Piece of Eden could theoretically control the entire world if they wanted. 

  
**Alternia and S'Burb:** This was tricky for Lightheart'd to make cohesive, considering this all happens in one universe, at the same time, in  _While There's Time._  However, the general gist of it is that Alternia is the expansive empire ruled by Her Imperial Condescension. S'Burb is a large region near the heart of the empire where the Alpha Assassins Guild resides. It is where most of the action takes place. 

  
**In-Universe Geography** : Okay, this was something we had to give some thought to as well. The world of Assassin's Creed is beautiful and rich with culture and we really didn't want to make our fic a run-of-the-mill monolith in terms of geography. And also, like, diverse trolls are the best trolls (because diverse characters are the best characters). A point must be made here that the ethnicities and nationalities established are a headcanon reconciled between Light and myself. You may not agree, and you may get angry, and we're sorry! But that's what we see when we look at these characters. Hopefully you'll see where we're coming from as well. We've taken canon references as well as name etymology (such as in the case of Latula) to establish territory. 

 

THUS FAR:

  * Southern F.E.T: Southern Far Eastern Territory, which would correlate with China.



  * Eastern F.E.T running along the same vein as Southern F.E.T. this would be Japan



  * North Eastern F.E.T would be Korea 



  * Indoi Subcontinent: Indoi was what the Greeks called India, and keeping in mind that before WWI the Indian subcontinent was just that, Indoi Subcontinent became a thing. This would include modern day Pakistan (Heart's homeland represent!), India and Bangladesh.



  
**Common**  is the language spoken across most of the world, the business language of the era if you will.  It has a very creative name. 

  
**The Ranking System and the Creed:** After some discussion between Heart and myself, we decided to mix n' match the ranking names that change slightly during the games, to better suit the world of  _While There's Time._

_Recruit > Initiate > Apprentice > Novice > Soldier > Disciple > Mercenary > Warrior > Veteran > Assassin > Grand Master_

  
And, as there are also ranks or levels in Homestuck, we felt it fitting that a fully fledged Assassin would be the equivilant of a God Tier. A Grand Master is a step above this, they are the most powerful level of God Tier and are in charge of their Guild .  A member moves up the ranks by completing missions and proving themselves to the Guild; that they are worthy of the title. Someone can only become an Assassin once they have proven that they have met the required weapons mastery, stealth, acute thinking and a working knowledge in pharmeceutical (note: poisons and bombs) procedures.

  
If you're a big AC fan, you'll notice that we didn't quite borrow the actual Creed. Instead, we made new ones that would fit the universe and the task ahead, but would still be relevant to the Assassins (for instance, "Let no hierarchy dictate your fate," since it harkens to the hemo spectrum  as well as the concept of ordered chaos. It may seem like a bit of an oxymoron considering there's ranks among the Guild but, again, ordered chaos.  And oxymorons are a large part of Assassin's Creed to begin with ).

That should be all for now! Once again, this is subject to additions and changes as the story progresses and as we recieve feedback. 

Thank you for reading this far! We hope you enjoy our lovely little monstrosity!

\- Lightheart'd


	6. Act 1 Act 4

The next few hours breezed by, Dirk found, as there was a lot to prepare and pack for what could be a very long trek. There was a standard list of equipment and items that everyone who left the Guild on 'business' was supposed to bring with them. Not including the basic weapons - four smoke bombs, ten throwing knives, two guns, two vials of poison and a hook attachment for the hidden blade - there was also things like matches, dried meat, a compass and a pouch filled with a precise amount of money. There was also a document with the Guild's insignia on it, which would guarantee aid from any of their allies if presented. Their allies were a strange lot, Dirk mused, and the Assassins had few - if any - law enforcement institutions in their roll call for help. Mostly, it was the establishments that worked in the dark - brothels, unsavoury bars, even thieving guilds.

Let no hierarchy dictate your fate, indeed.

After stopping Roxy for the third time from trying to sneak some more illicit weapons into her carrier bag - and more than her allotted flask of rum - he gave up and left her to gods only knew what. He found Rufioh in the adjacent room, giving orders to some assassin he wasn't familiar with; it looked like they would be taking over the Warrior's role while he was away. "And don't forget, you have authority over the trainees, and they are a disciplined bunch, but don't push it. They  _are_  trained to kill." His casual, almost airy tone made Dirk snort. Noticing the additional presence in the room, Rufioh grinned, "Ah, Dirk. Packed already?" he asked innocently, eyeing the very thin bag the recruit was sporting. Dirk gave a half hearted shrug, but not before moving his body ever so slightly, blocking the bag some. "Yeah, I guess. " 

Rufioh shrugged back, not giving the impression he had noticed anything. "Maybe you'll rub off some on Roxy."

Dirk rolled his eyes, smiling crookedly, "As if anyone could rub off on her. Well, boss, when do we head out?" With that, the door Dirk was leaning next to banged open and an enthusiastic Roxy came sauntering through, dressed up in an assassin's uniform that looked like it belonged on someone at a much higher rank. For starters, everything was a deep royal blue. It was also form fitting and made out of soft suede. Over it was a matching jacket similar to an Air Captain's - it even had the same kind of tassels to one side. And really, apart from the mask that finished off the outfit, she definitely could have passed for someone from the Airforce Academy.

"This  _fine_  broad is ready and willing," she struck a pose, winking at the two men, "Emphasis on the willing." Desensitized to Roxy in general, Rufioh turned his attention back to Dirk. "Well now that our rogue is ready, we're good to go."

"Rogue, huh?" Dirk said, raising an eyebrow. Roxy giggled, "It's what they call me, being as I was a bit of a common thief before the Guild so heroically rescued me from my fate!" She pressed her hand against her forehead, arching her back in a swoon. "Rogue of Void," Rufioh corrected, running through a final check on his own bags. "She has a knack for disappearing in plain sight. Kind of made it hard catching up to her in the first place." Roxy beamed, snapping her mask down into place. "The fleeting fox, as I'm called by my expansive fanclub and by the town's poor and misfortunate." "Right," Dirk interrupted, cutting her off before she could start yet another infamous spiel into nothing, about nothing. "So what am I then?"

"Well you need to have gone on enough missions to be assessed first, Dirk," Rufioh explained absently, as he slipped into his horrendous wings. Dirk was  _so freaking jealous_ of them. "Oh you're definitely a Prince." Roxy suggested later as they headed out to the main gates. "You just swoop in and save the day, the kingdom and especially the princess - that's me by the way." Before Dirk could counter however, Rufioh stopped quite suddenly, forcing them to as well.

"English! There you are."

Dirk and Roxy turned to look at the newcomer. In front of them stood a good-looking - if slightly lanky young man. He looked a bit of an adventurer, with a well-worn backpack dangling from a shoulder, a utility kit at his waist and - for some reason - a lasso hanging from a belt. He was the manifestation of confidence and self-assurance; that is, until he took a step towards them. The illusion shattered and all that remained was some weird gazelle-human hybrid. Dirk tried not to smile, but the new guy was definitely laying it on thick. A second look at his face confirmed that he couldn't be much older than Dirk himself, just out of adolescence. Then English opened his mouth and yep- there was no doubting that a lot of this was put on. But that had a sort of charm to it? "Heya Rufioh!" English exclaimed, ambling over once he spotted who was calling him.

"Roxy, Dirk, this is Jake English. He'll be guiding us to our destination. Jake, Roxy is an Initiate, Dirk a Recruit. They'll be accompanying me on our mission."

Jake grinned a large, goofy grin at them. Dirk suspected he thought he was being charming as hell. And damn if it wasn't just a little bit. "Well met, friends, well met."

"Well, well," Roxy purred exaggeratedly. "Who is this hunk?"

There was a beat, before the adventurer replied, "...um...Jake..." Ah. His cogs functioned slowly, Dirk reckoned. Beside him, Roxy heaved a sigh that could have blown down the guild if it wasn't fortified with some or the other feat of alchemy. "It was a flirtation tactic, dear heart."

"Oh." Jake blinked slowly. Dirk could swear he heard the slightly rusty squeak of clockwork turn in the other boy's head. Sparing them all, Rufioh gently pushed Jake forward, "Well, what are you waiting for? We have work to do!" Despite the "gentleness" of the push, Jake was propelled forward, nearly barrelling into Dirk, who - like any other interested young man - moved aside from his place beside the door, letting Jake haphazardly slam into the wall.

"Ha-ha," Jake said -  _said_  - weakly, brushing himself off. "Oh, you caught me off guard there, that was a good one! But mind you, you rapscallion, I'll just have to repay you some time in a little tête-à-tête. Ohh, boy, that smites just a tad." And on and on. This litany kept up as they left the grounds of the Guild, making their way to a small gateway where horses - sweet merciful god  _horses!_ \- waited for them. It continued even as they mounted and set off; no one got a word in edgeways, and frankly, no one bothered. Eventually, as they were winding their way through the city streets, Jake paused. "I say, would you believe it - what with all this conversing we didn't even notice we were going the wrong way! About face and turn!" he called out as he reared his horse in a completely different direction, causing them all to follow begrudgingly.

Roxy pulled up beside Dirk, tilting her head back slightly, giving him an exasperated look. "This is gonna take forever," she muttered. Dirk nodded in agreement, neither of them knowing at the time just how right Roxy's words were going to be.


	7. Act 1 Act 5

There was no need for the Assassins to stop anywhere in the vast central city; with provisions and an overly talkative guide, they made good time. Well, Dirk assumed they were. He didn't actually know where they were headed - though sometimes Jake didn't seem to know either. Both Roxy and Dirk marvelled at Rufioh's patience in this regard. The city itself was quiet - midnight had been and gone hours ago and almost all of the population would be asleep at this stage. Beforus was not a place known for its night-life. Making their way down one of the only remaining cobbled streets, Roxy piped up, asking why exactly they were on horseback to begin with, when a Zeppelin could move them much quicker. 

"Much quicker, yes, and much more  _conspicuously_. ...besides, for some reason, we Assassins can't resist the urge to stamp our symbols on everything we touch. And we really, really wouldn't want to attract unnecessary attention." 

Roxy thought for a second, then raised an eyebrow, "Wouldn't it work though? Leaving a trail of menacing bread crumbs, making sure no one has forgotten us, especially not the Association - psychologically, it would be pretty bangin'." 

Their superior actually turned towards her on his horse, looking at her curiously. "You should mess around less. You're smart." He frowned, idly tugging on the reins of his horse. "Yeah. It would be bangarangin'-" (not for the first time, Dirk wondered just what the hell that catchphrase was) "but it's still not something we do. We work in the darkness to serve the light. All our psychological warfare is done inconspicuously. We can't afford any mishaps, our numbers are low enough as it is. And drawing attention to ourselves, especially in large, slow-flying targets would be a bad idea." 

Roxy opened her mouth, then closed it, nodding. Breaking out in her usual, slightly-less-than-sober-even-when-sober grin, she chirped, "You flatter me, Rufi- _oh_! I'm not all that smart, I just say the right thing once in a while." Winking, she leaned forward on her horse to check out Jake. 

Dirk sighed inwardly. Rufioh was right - Roxy was really intelligent. He just wished she would stop acting so ditzy all the time. 

"Jake!" Rufioh called, "How long now?" "We'll be there in a beat, old sport, just a beat and two ticks!" Dirk wasn't entirely sure about this, and neither was Rufioh from the look on his face; they were only at the edge of the city after all, the old perimeter gate just in view. "Right," Rufioh sighed despondently, looking like he was regretting his choice in guides more and more with every step. 

But it didn't take too long, to get to the first checkpoint, as Jake had marked out on a map. Outside of Beforus there was a road for the locomotives and one tired old dirt track for horses that they'd be using, while trying to stay out of sight as much as they could. The next marker on the map was a neighbouring town, their next destination. 

"Didn't I tell you I'd get you Assassin-types here in one piece? Eh? Eh?" Jake grinned, looking for the approval in his charges' faces. Roxy flashed him a thumbs up, Rufioh chuckled and Dirk just nodded slightly. He really was cute, in a silly, insufferably spacey way. 

Satisfied, Jake trotted on ahead, towards the town, rambling on about the tourist attractions which included a 200 year old well, a museum of minute hands, and a stockade yard with a particularly gruesome history that he described rather colourfully. 

"Oh, and they have a quaint little tavern too! Well, if by quaint you mean large, and if by little you mean...also large." He fumbled before amending, "But it's cosy and there's usually a chap or two around who knows a thing or two about what's what, if you know what I mean" he ended in a conspiratorial, dramatic whisper.

Rufioh nodded, "That's all we need. Our whisperers are usually extremely reliable," he added for the benefit of Roxy and Dirk, who nodded in reply. "Thanks a lot, Jake, you've been a great help."

Replying with a grin and a salute and something about being forever at the service of the people of the light, or something equally corny, Jake gasped. "Oh! The Grand Master also told me to give you-" he broke off, rummaging urgently in his saddlebags, grumbling under his breath, before looking up to them with a broad grin. "How silly of me! I have some - uh - information to give you! You see, there are some gosh darn talented cartographers somewhere around here. Ask around, I'm sure you will find them!" His smile wavered slightly but no one had the heart to tell him what an awful, transparent liar he was. Not even Roxy, which was surprising since she usually jumped at material like this. Dirk even found himself uttering a small "Thanks," though there was no reason for it.

He paid for that remark however, spending the rest of the trek to the tavern ignoring Roxy's ever wiggling eyebrows. Dumb, charming guide making him say stupid things. Totally uncool.

The town - named Can Town for reasons any of them had yet to figure out - was just as Jake had described it, right down to some specific graffiti on a specific wall space. It was kind of eerie how perceptive the guy was, given his, well, Jake-ness. Older than Beforus, which wasn't all that new of a metropolis to begin with, the place had an idyllic feel to it. By now, the sun was back high in the sky and people were milling all around. How great for them. Dirk, meanwhile was exhausted from their night-long travel and by the looks on everyone else's faces, so were they.

In further testament to Jake's accuracy, the tavern was exactly where he had said, between the museum of minute hands and a slightly ancient looking library. It was slightly out of place there, large as it was, and there was certainly no mistaking it.

"Alright then, Roofie-darling, riddle me this: if we're so inconspicuous, how come our informant is in the most obvious friggin' bar to grace the land?" Roxy had consumed half her flask by that point, shaking off protests that it was too early for a nightcap, and the Initiate was - as she put it - "only pleasantly buzzed, darling, pleasantly buzzed."

Shaking his head at the nickname, he said, "Sorry, Roxy, I should have been a bit more clear - sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight."

"So cryptic," she muttered, toying with the stopper on her flask before she brightened. "So I can be inconspicuous and drunk!" "Or-" Rufioh interrupted with an easy smile, "you could be inconspicuous and sober." To this, Roxy pouted, and whined, "You're no fun! Tell him, Dirky!"

"Tell him what, exactly?" Dirk grumbled, pushing his hair back out of his eyes irritably. "That you can't not be drunk? He already knows, I assure you."

Her eyelids flickered and her mouth twitched downwards for barely a second before she cried out, "No! That I can drink and still be a good Assassassin-" she broke off her already nonsensical tirade to snicker. "Ass-Ass-In. I just realized-"

"Sorry, Rox', but you shouldn't be drinking on the job." Deftly, he took the flask from her hand and tucked it into his own saddle, knowing full well that the flask would be back in her grip in mere moments. There was no hiding anything from the former thief - or the Rogue of Void, as she was now called. 

Pretending he didn't see the hurt look she shot him - he was  _way_  too tired for this - he dismounted and led his horse the last few meters. That way, he could keep the stupid flask away from her longer (because inanimate, metal-based objects had levels of intelligence and this one was profoundly idiotic- ...shit, the sooner he was in a bed the better). Rufioh just shook his head and awkwardly made his way to the stables with Jake, leaving a markedly quieter Roxy to bring up the rear. 

Much later, as the sun was setting and several blessed sleep-filled hours had passed, Dirk found himself in the main area of the Tavern. Earlier, he had been too preocupied to even look around, something he would have to work on, he noted; an Assassin must always know their surroundings. He had found a small table and bench near the back of the room, a perfect spot to watch and/or lurk from. He sipped at a drink absently, wondering when their confidant was going to show up. As he watched the proceedings, he was joined by a bright and chirpy Rufioh, and then a decidedly sober Roxy, but no Jake. 

Jake had left sometime while they were recharging, but he had left a note outside Dirk's room with a sub-frequency code on it - his personal morse code channel. For some reason he couldn't quite explain (and to some degree, didn't feel comfortable or dignified explaining) the presence of that note made his belly flop around a little. Berating his organs, he had tucked the note into a bag, making a mental note to check up on the idiot some time and to doubly make sure that a certain Rogue never found it. She'd be impossible to shut up if she did. 

Eventually, Rufioh suddenly ordered tea from a nearby waitress. Dirk wondered why it was so necessary to order tea loudly, but he realized quick enough, as a stranger slipped into one of the chairs at their table, that it was a code word. As the waitress scurried away to get the large man's tea, Rufioh quietly forwarded a feather with a dyed Assassin's "A" on it over the table to the man. Nodding, the informant pushed it back towards Rufioh. 

"Two days ago, a person of interest came to the bar and demanded to know where one could find a solitary ground that provided good game, shelter, water and accessibility. It was in the mannerisms, and the outline of a most telling weapon in the person's bag, that told us who it was." The informant paused as the waitress came back, depositing Rufioh's tea on the table. Dirk and Roxy listened in rapt attention - he wasn't sure about his friend, but Dirk was busy observing the almost nonchalant way the informant was speaking. There was nothing shady about the man, he just seemed a typical tavern patron, but that's where the beauty of the guise lay. Maybe one day he would have to look out for such a person. He intended to learn how beforehand. 

"There's only one such spot nearby, the northern forest area of Solas. I believe you will find her there, or at least making her way there."

"Thank you, friend," Rufioh said respectfully. "Is there anything we can do to return the favour?" "No, all is well." He stood up and nodded to Rufioh, Roxy and Dirk, before bidding them goodbye and disappearing back into the depths of the tavern. 

"Well then," Dirk noted, "I suppose we know what the next step is." 

Rufioh nodded, stretching his large body (and once again, Dirk could swear he heard the chair protest this cruelty) and sighing. "We'll leave at the crack of dawn. Get all the rest you can, my doll and my man. It will be a long, hard ride."

And with Roxy dissolving into peals of laughter, all three Guild members stood up and prepared to go back to bed. For all they knew, it would be the last proper bed they'd see for a long time.


	8. Act 1 Act 6

Surprisingly, they all did wake up at the crack of dawn, even Roxy. Perhaps it was the sudden gravity of the mission that kept all grogginess at bay. Regardless, they spent most of the journey rather quiet, looking for the tell-tale signs of a relatively clueless runaway. The next two days were completely uneventful: no one had heard or seen anyone fitting the description they were quietly asking about. Of course, they had to keep what they were doing quiet, in case the wrong person figured out just who they were after. By the third day everyone was tired and sore from rough nights at camping; while the weather had been permitting, the ground was not. So, the sombre mood continued which, for someone like Roxy, was disturbing to say the least. 

But, they were almost at the Northern perimeter of the forest, which meant they were near their next stop. Not that Dirk had high hopes at the moment, since none of the framers or travellers they had met had seen or heard anything about a hooded stranger with a rather large and well-stuffed bag. He patted his breast pocket absently, where the sub-frequency code was neatly tucked away. It had been a long, boring few days, which had given Dirk way too much time to think about a certain dense, if sweet, adventurer. At this stage he wasn't sure if it was just something to do to pass the time or if he was genuinely thinking about him. The mind of a master of irony was sometimes ironic, in and of itself. Which was also so very ironic. Dammit. 

A loud noise chased him out of this reverie; it continued, getting louder and more angry sounding by the second. It sounded like a lot of people yelling all at once. No sooner than he thought this, out through the thicket emerged a bug that might have passed for a person if they weren't so short, followed by a group of people who were chasing after them. Well that explained the yelling. The problem was they were headed right towards their party. 

"SCATTER!" Rufioh yelled, the force of his voice making the horses -  _oh, horses_ , Dirk thought,  _wonderful, incredible, strong, lovely horses, what would I do without them, fuckall that's what_  - scatter before either the Initiate or the Recruit could react. 

The bug kid just kept on running, straight past where they'd just been, and he was fast. Most reputed fast things would probably be jealous of this kid (though probably not something like a cheetah). But that was still pretty fucking fast. His pursuers couldn't keep up with his pacing and it looked like everyone present was aware of that. As the bug kid gained a few meters, the mob slowed, muttering discontent among itself and cursing the object of their anger.

Rufioh looked at the other two and shrugged, nodding towards the mob, "Might as well. Dirk, how about you go talk to the nice people?" "Yeah, Dirky," Roxy quickly agreed, the traitor. "We'll help from here." 

As Dirk made his way to the mob, grumbling to himself, he heard - and promptly ignored - Roxy saying under her breath, "Where it's safe." The group of oh-so-pleasant people, at this stage, had come to a complete stop. Several were watching their pursuit, who was still running at a top speed. Well, watching was putting it nicely. So was glaring for that matter. It brought new meaning to the phrase "if looks could kill." A few of the calmer looking ones were talking amongst themselves, nudging each other as they spotted Dirk heading towards them. He raised his hand up in a friendly enough greeting; they didn't attack so he guessed they weren't feral, just really pissed off. 

"So..." he started, elongating the word into several syllables. "Anyone wanna share with the group what just happened here? No judgement. " His tone didn't go over too well with them. Ah well, he tried. "No, really." Demeanour shifting, he asked more seriously, "Why were you chasing that kid, what did he do." 

"That kid," spat out one of the mob members, while another behind him  _literally_  spat on the ground, "has been a good for nothing, pain in the ass and all-around nuisance since the day his guardian dropped him at our doorstep!" He paused. "Well. Not our doorstep. The village doesn't have a doorste-" 

"Moving swiftly on," Dirk prompted. "Right. Anyway, he's a little prick, ringing the emergency intercom and yelling at all of us to get to the town centre for an urgent meeting, leaving telegrams at three in the morning talking about discussing issues with the mayor, saying we need to rise up against the evil under our noses-" 

"Tellin' us we're heartless and offensive 'cuz we've got baker's stalls out in th'open where the 'smellin' impaired' can't smell 'em," chipped in another person. Dirk was genuinely taken aback at that. To clarify that he'd heard correct, he slowly repeated, "...saying the smelling impaired can't..." 

"Smell 'em." Most of the crowd nodded and murmured their assent at that. "Olfactory privilege, 'e says!" 

"Olfact-" Dirk shook his head, trying not to dwell on that. "So. What made you snap?" Rufioh asked more curious than anything. By this point, he and Roxy had graciously trotted over, after seeing that the crowd hadn't ripped apart their live bait. The crowd members looked at one another, some fidgeting, some shuffling their feet, others tapping their various weapons against the ground. "...well...he told us we were bein' enslaved by her Imperial Condescension, you see. That we ent gonna come outta the year alive if we don't rise up and band behind 'im or sommat similar. Guessin' most of us lost it at that point." The man lifted up his hat and scratched his head, a frown on his face. "Problem being, we've been hassled by the Condesce's people for taxes. We don't want to invite more attention than needed. So, we decided to run him out." 

"Good riddens!" yelled someone. "I was getting tired of being told my smithy served as a living reminder of weakness for the common person!" 

"He sounds like a character," Roxy giggled. Rufioh just grinned a little, shaking his head, "What else did he say?" "A  _prophesy_ , he told us. Sayin' something about being a sufferer, how 'The Dolorosa', whatever that is, would command her forces to usurp the Condesce, purge the empire and make us a Republic." Some people interrupted, laughing at this. The Empire had been around for centuries, it wasn't going anywhere any-time soon. "Sommat like that. Fancies himself a "Seer." Whatever the hell that means." 

"And did he say what the Dolorosa or whatever would purge?" Rufioh inquired lazily, a sign that he was ready to move on soon. "Yeah!" piped up a small voice, a child that had apparently joined the mob. "He told me it was an association! Didn't say which-" 

The Warrior choked on nothing in particular, which was followed by a small coughing fit. "Sorry, sorry," he wheezed, looking quickly at Roxy and Dirk and motioning towards the general direction of the runaway. Dirk took it to mean they were to follow this annoying-sounding guy and sighed, turning his horse around. "Thank you for your time," Rufioh said, dismissing them. To the Recruit's surprise, the crowd actually obeyed, picking up their possessions and various instruments of torture. "Oh! Before you go- what's this kids name?" 

"The Insufferable!" someone yelled out, met with murmurs of agreement as the crowd turned back the way they had come, back towards their mountain village, looking decidedly happier with themselves now that they'd chased down and frightened off one annoying kid.

As Rufioh sighed, almost giving up on the possibility of learning this kid's name, he heard the same child cry out, "Kankri Vantas!"


End file.
